Persephone.

“What does it look like, Y/N?” Draco breathed slowly. A deadly calm had settled over him. Though his hand still cradled his bleeding arm, his features had hardened. The lines on his face seemed to be etched in stone. The muscles in his back and shoulders coiled in torchlight as his injured arm slowly, perhaps unconsciously, made its way to his wand. The playful boy that she had left at the party just hours before was gone and the rigid outline of a Deatheater had taken his place.

Y/N put on her best haughty smile. Fred had left the hospital bed that they shared to make his way to his brother’s bedside. Y/N didn’t dare look at him but felt his gaze burn on her back as she timidly approached Draco.

“Still a little drunk,” she grinned at him mischievously as the lie burned in her throat. “I haven’t really learned my way around the castle yet. I thought the kitchens were around here somewhere. I’m suddenly in the mood for something deep-fried and smothered in chocolate.” She forced her smirk to remain despite the way her stomach twisted when she looked into his hollow gray eyes. She hated lying to Draco and, worse, she was terrible at it.

“What a disappointment,” Draco murmured. His eyes left hers to briefly glare at the Weasley twins. Y/N didn’t dare turn around. “It’s impolite to intrude, Draco dear,” she said sweetly. “Come along,” she took his sleeve and began to pull him out of the room. “I can bandage you up and then we could go find something to eat.” The great mahogany doors closed behind them.

They were only a few paces down the hallway, Draco trailing slowly behind her, when he pulled her into an empty corridor. He pinned her to a wall, his hands blocking her exits. Blood still ran from his injured arm and onto the stone floor but he didn’t seem to notice. Y/N stared into his darkening eyes defiantly in a desperate attempt to keep face.  

“Do you want to tell me what was going on back there or should I let my imagination wander?” he hissed to her, his eyes moved to the bloodied bandages on her arms where her excessive use of magic had marred her skin. Her forced grin had slipped into a tired grimace. She opened her mouth, another lie on her lips, when his hard look softened.

“Magic,” he asked, his eyes softening as they bore into hers. “Or…the other thing.”

“I’m fine,” she said, looking anywhere but in his eyes. “I’m just stressed and, under the circumstances, I think that’s a bit reasonable.” She looked down. Blue sparks flew out her hand. A flame had started to dance in her palm. Though the blaze licked her fingers, she did not feel anything. Not heat, nor cold. Nothing. The irony, she thought miserably.

“And Weasley,” he trailed off, looking at the flames in her palm.

“It’s nothing,” she mumbled, balling her fist and quenching the blaze. “It’s just a little bit of fun. A distraction. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“We can’t afford to be distracted,” Draco scolded, leaning on the wall across from her.

“I know that,” she mumbled, her hand moving down to scratch her Dark Mark. Draco stared at her for a minute and she wandered if he was seeing her or thinking about his own scar-faced distraction. She didn't have much time to process it when Draco turned on his heels and marched down the hall without another word. Y/N looked back at the great doors of the hospital wing; the look on Fred’s face as she dropped his hand burning its way through her mind as she turned to follow Malfoy.

                                                          ***

The halls of the castle overflowed with a river of students as Y/N made her way to Charms. Draco was a few paces ahead of her, his pale head bent in deep quiet conversation with a few 7th year Ravenclaw boys.

Lost in her own melancholy, she found herself in a broom closet. A large freckled hand was pressed against her mouth muffling her protests. She looked up in alarm, into Fred’s dark eyes. Despite the tip of her wand pressing firmly against his throat, Fred was smiling. Y/N was slow to lower to wand. Almost as slow as she was to free herself from Fred’s hold.

“What do you want, Weasley?” she said defeatedly. She moved to the other side of the small space, placing her wand and her hands firmly in the pockets of her robes. Fred’s smile was gone. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he stated.

“You’re flattering yourself,” Y/N spit. “There’s nothing between us to avoid.”

“Y/N…” Fred started towards her.

“No,” she said, backing up so abruptly she crashed into the shelves behind her. Spare buckets and cleaning utensils fell from rafters. “Damn it!” she stumbled forward in an attempt to avoid the falling objects. Fred caught her. “Get off,” she pushed him away, her hands sparking. Thunder clapped in the distance.

He raised up his hands in a surrendering gesture. “Just talk to me,” he whispered. She had rarely seen him like this. The humor and sarcasm that usually lit up his features was replaced with genuine concern. It made the guilt in her stomach twist like a knife.

“Why?” she asked. “We’re not friends. Up until a few weeks ago, we had barely even spoken. Now, just because I’ve saved your ass a few times, suddenly we’re besties? Face it, you don’t even know me.”

“But I’m trying too,” he said, his voice cracking with anger. His face flushed as he gestured between the two of them. “No matter how hard you’re making it.”

“What’s the point?!” she shrieked. Blue sparks flew from her hands; she had started to shake. “What do you get out of this?! Huh?! To prove you’re some rebel for daring to hang out with a Slytherin? Or is it enough that every time he sees me with you, I have to lie to the one person who has ever given a damn about me?”

She slammed her fist against the stone wall. More sparks flew. Pain radiated from her hand but the scorched mark that she left on the wall gave her a brief satisfaction and fed her ravenous rage. “You don’t get it! I break things! Can’t you see that? Can’t you see that I’m not a good person? No matter how hard I try to do the right thing, I always end up fucking everything up.” The Dark Mark pulsed on her forearm. “I wish that I could close my eyes and open a joke shop and pretend that everything going on in the world right now was just part of a bad dream. But I can’t.” The rage was draining out of her. Tears filled her eyes and all of the pent-up emotions from the past few weeks threatened to spill out. “And I hate myself for it sometimes.”

Fred slowly moved towards her, worried she might spook like a frightened animal. His own anger had faded rather quickly when she had begun to break apart. He had watched her tirade with a stunned despondency. Y/N was breathing hard but the sparks in her hands had begun to fizzle out. She flinched when Fred put his arms around her but didn’t pull away. Instead, she leaned into the hug, pulling him closer and resting her tear-soaked face in his chest. They held each other for a while, neither daring to break the trance and return to a reality where they might one day very soon be facing off on a battlefield. His face was buried in her dark curls and her breath caught when he planted a soft kiss on her head. She looked up at him, brushing the hair and tears out her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said and began to take a step back. Y/N stopped him, taking his hand in hers but not looking him in the eyes.

Then she kissed him. Slowly at first; just a soft brush of the lips that caused his stormy eyes to flutter close and the corners of his mouth to perk up into a mischievous Weasley trademark smirk. Sensing his grin, Y/N reached onto the tips of her toes to kiss him again. More passionately this time. Her eyes closed as she pulled herself closer to him. Her hands wrapped around his neck; her fingers inched their way into his flaming red hair, twisting and pulling the amber strands as his lips melted into hers. He tasted so much of cinnamon and spice that she briefly wondered if he had been in the kitchens again.

Fred’s hands moved to rest on her waist, pulling her by the tails of her skirt closer to him. Their bodies molded into one as his arms wrapped around her protectively. The closet was filled with the sounds of their breathing as they briefly came up for air after each embrace. Fred let out a breathy moan that was quickly muffled by their lips connecting again. Y/N tugged lightly on his hair one final time before moving her hands from his hair to his jaw line and down the hard muscles of his chest. Their kisses slowed. His fingertips traced the curve of her waist once more before dragging his hands slowly up her body in order to cup her face. They broke apart; their faces still inches from one another’s.

Y/N kept her eyes closed in an attempt to focus on controlling her breathing. Fred took this time to commit her face to memory. The way her dark curls framed her face. The way she nervously bit her swollen pink lips. He searched for imperfections. Some small scar or blemish that would prove to him that she was indeed real.  He could find none. Every mark, every flaw just added up to her. And in that moment, he couldn’t think of anything more perfect than that.

Fred smiled as Y/N’s eyes fluttered open. The chocolate irises that he had been expecting now blazed a bright gold. Apparently, anger wasn’t the only thing that made her lose a bit of control. He caressed her face, more intrigued than afraid. “Fred,” she started, her eyes flashed warningly. He kissed her again. She responded by pulling him closer by his robes, causing the both of them to crash against the wall.  The temptation to lose herself in Fred, in a broom closet, in the middle of the castle, was becoming more and more appealing. Either way, she was definitely going to be late for Charms.

Their kiss deepened. Coming up for air, she let out a soft whimper when his lips traveled to her neck leaving soft kisses and nibbles on the sensitive skin there. His hands slipped her robe from her shoulders and she smiled as the cool air hit her bare arms. His fingers traced down her forearms, over the spot of her glamoured Dark Mark. The sensation caused her to briefly come to her senses.

“Freddie,” she gently pushed him off. “Let’s slow down a bit.” He smiled at the nickname, his blue eyes glinting in the soft light of room, and backed away.

“Sorry, love,” he whispered dreamingly.

“Fred,” she started again, her face burning. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something that I should’ve told you before we…” she gestured between them, hoping the movement made up for her lack of knowing exactly what had just transpired between them.  Her breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t find the words. For some reason, she didn’t think “I’m a part of the group of psychopaths who are dead set on killing you and all of your friends…but don’t worry, it’s not as bad as you think” was going to cut it. Her hand moved to cover her left forearm. She was just going to have to show him. Once he knew, she could explain everything…almost everything…well…some stuff. And he would understand, and everything would be okay…

But it wouldn’t. And she couldn’t. The words would not come. She could not risk her mission here or, more importantly, Draco’s life for what? A few stolen moments in a broom closet with a boy she barely knew. Absolutely not. It didn’t matter if his kiss had made her feel more alive in the past few minutes than she had felt in the last few weeks. It didn’t matter…or so she kept telling herself.